


he looks back

by oakleaf_bearer



Series: martin does jon's hair [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Set between Seasons 3 and 4, Trans Martin Blackwood, i physically cannot apologise enough for this, jon's in a coma, major spoilers for season 3, martin does jon's hair, references to martins mum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakleaf_bearer/pseuds/oakleaf_bearer
Summary: martin visits jon in hospitalspoilers for the season 3 finale
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: martin does jon's hair [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849285
Comments: 12
Kudos: 149





	he looks back

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR spoilers for the end of season three 
> 
> i'm very sorry about how sad this is, i don't know what happened

Somewhere deep inside him, buried under years of smiles and polite nods, Martin wants to scream. He wants to throw something, to watch it break against the wall, splinters of  something  scattering across the floor. He wants to cry and shout and beg. He wants to shatter every window and every lightbulb. He wants to shout that this isn't right, that this isn't how things were supposed to go, that this isn't _fair._

Instead, he sits in silence. The clock on the wall is the only noise, with no beeping of monitors to fill the spaces between the incessant ticking. 

His suit is uncomfortable. The cheap fabric is stiff and unyielding as he shifts. He can hear a nurse outside the door, speaking to someone with an overly chipper tone. He ignores them. 

Jon doesn't move. He hasn't moved, not since they bought him in. The only change in his position happens when the nurses change his bedding. 

They smile at Martin whenever he comes in. They've started to recognise him, and they ask him how he is. They promise to tell him if anything changes with Jon. Nothing ever does. 

He knows Georgie comes sometimes, they've crossed each other's paths once or twice, but they never say much. A tense smile, a forced hello. 

Basira hasn't visited. Or Melanie. 

Jon's hair is messy. The nurses didn't smooth it down after they changed his pillows. It's wild as it splays out on the pillow around his head, a dark, greying halo. 

Martin knows the texture of the hair under his hands. He knows how it feels to run his fingers through the strands and stroke them down, smoothing the mess. 

A day of people smiling sadly at him, apologising for his loss, saying they loved him and were there for him, all while using a different name, the name of someone long dead and buried, not the man that stood in front of them, had worn Martin down. 

'You don't understand.' He'd wanted to say.  'I've already mourned the person I love the most. I did everything I could. But it all meant nothing in the end. I couldn't help any of them.' 

He'd excused himself from the wake early. He didn't want their false sympathy. He didn't want to hear them tell him that she had loved him. 

He knew it was a lie. 

He reaches out and strokes Jon's hair. It's not as soft as it used to be. It hasn't been looked after.

Gently, he brushes the strands away from Jon's face, away from his scars, away from his eyes, still closed in a motionless dream. 

He smooths down the hair on his pillow, coaxing the frizz back towards Jon's head.

Martin wants to take a comb to it, to brush through it, safe in the dim shadows of Jon's office.

He wants to feel Jon lean back into his fingers as he strokes through his locks. He wants to laugh quietly and ask if it's okay, and for Jon to reply ' Yes.' 

But Jon doesn't move. His chest doesn't rise and fall with breath. He doesn't look at Martin and smile a smile Martin knows is his and his alone. 

Alone.

That sounds about right. 

Jon's hair moves easily as he strokes it. It's pliant under his hand, limp and wiry, and so painfully everything and nothing like how it's felt before. He tucks a hand under Jon's head and carefully rearranges him on the pillow. 

Tomorrow, he'll come back, smooth down his hair again, read him a statement, try to tell him he loves him, and know, deep down, somewhere under the screaming, how little it matters. 

So he strokes his hair and doesn't tell him he loves him, and then, when visiting hours are over, he will stand, put on his coat, smile sadly to the nurses who offer their encouragement, and leave. 

In the doorway, he looks back. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was much different from  
> my usual style, i was playing around a bit and i tried to draw on my own experiences with grief and loss, and i guess this just happened? 
> 
> the next one will be less sad i hope 
> 
> i posted this the same day as my funniest fic, so idk what my emotional state is rn
> 
> oh btw, trans rights
> 
> @illbefunnylater on tumblr or @oakleaf--bearer for my writing blog   
> come tell me how much you hated this


End file.
